


(Trace) That Tattoo on Your Shoulder

by celt_the_flame_3110



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fix-It, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Kissing, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celt_the_flame_3110/pseuds/celt_the_flame_3110
Summary: Richie was now staring at his five foot nine smokin’ hot boyfriend, his brain short circuiting. He wasn’t staring at the scar that marked the skin above his heart, even though it was a reminder of what they had both survived. He wasn't staring at Eddie's abs, even though they were chiseled enough to grate cheese off of.Richie was staring at Eddie's tattoos.Most people would look at that short office worker with a constant furrowed brow and wouldn’t assume that he had a single tattoo, let alone several of them.OREddie has James Ransone's tattoos and Richie traces the designs.That's literally it. That's the fic.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	(Trace) That Tattoo on Your Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it's been a while.
> 
> I'm in college now so you probably won't see me here that often anymore :/
> 
> But at least I'm getting a degree, I guess lmao.
> 
> Title is from that one song by the Chainsmokers that I can't remember the name of lol (Just Googled it, it's "Closer" lol)
> 
> I only proofread this once and used Google Docs, so sorry about all the errors!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic!!
> 
> Also, thank my friend Lock for giving me the idea to write this!

Richie was sitting in bed and scrolling through his phone, his back against the headboard. He was about to go to sleep but was waiting for Eddie to come to their room first. 

Richie’s nightly routine consisted of brushing his teeth and flossing if he was in the mood (Eddie would typically  _ make him _ be in the mood.) Eddie’s consisted of all kinds of shit that Richie wasn’t even familiar with. He was always into skincare and making sure that the inside of his mouth was clean enough to eat out of, but Richie had no clue what all the fuck he did in the bathroom. 

All he knew for sure was that Eddie would always take  _ at least _ twenty minutes to get ready for bed. So Richie typically had to keep himself occupied so he could stay awake long enough for him to get there, because he  _ refused _ to go to sleep without Eddie.

He was scrolling through his photo gallery; which mainly consisted of memes, group photos of the losers, and pictures of Eddie. It mostly contained the latter.

It’s not like you could blame him, though. Eddie was the love of Richie’s life  _ and _ he was hot. He wanted to look at Eddie as much as he possibly could, to remind himself of how fucking  _ lucky _ he was.

Richie was looking through his top three favorites: a selfie of him and Eddie cuddling on the couch in their pajamas, a picture of the the two of them standing on the beach, and a picture that Richie took of Eddie while he was napping. All of these pictures were different in many ways but there was one thing they all had in common: Eddie was wearing a shirt in all of them.

Richie had no problem with Eddie wanting to keep a shirt on ninety-nine percent of the time. As long as Eddie was comfortable and happy, Richie was happy. Richie just saw Eddie being shirtless as a treat when they had sex and on the rare ocasions that the two of them showered together. It was probably for the best that Eddie stayed fully clothed, though. Richie got easily distracted when Eddie was shirtless because of his—

When Richie heard bare feet on the hardwood he glanced up from his phone to see his boyfriend… fucking  _ shirtless. _

Eddie padded over to the bed and sat down on his side of it, as if he wasn’t _fucking_ _shirtless._

Eddie took a sip from the glass of water that Richie always made sure to sit on his nightstand (because he was sick of having to get out of bed at two in the morning because Eddie started whining about being thirsty)…  _ As if he wasn’t fucking shirtless. _

Richie was now staring at his five foot nine smokin’ hot boyfriend, his brain short circuiting. He wasn’t staring at the scar that marked the skin above his heart, even though it was a reminder of what they had both survived. He wasn't staring at Eddie's abs, even though they were chiseled enough to grate cheese off of.

Richie was staring at Eddie's tattoos.

Most people would look at that short office worker with a constant furrowed brow and wouldn’t assume that he had a single tattoo, let alone  _ several _ of them. Because that's exactly what all of the losers thought when they returned to Derry and saw each other again.

But a few days after they fought Pennywise—after the doctors performed surgery on Eddie and saved his life—his friends were allowed to see him. When the six of them crept into the room, Eddie was still asleep. His face and body were lacking any tension. The only thing that kept Richie from rushing forward and frantically checking for a pulse was the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Once the six of them stood and gazed at their friend in somber silence, it didn’t take them long to see the tattoos all over his body.

There were  _ so many _ of them. They looked fucking cool and sexy as  _ hell. _

Once everyone seated themselves on the various chairs around the room (poor Ben and Mike volunteered to sit on the hard floor) they started talking about how awesome they looked and how surprised they were that  _ Eddie _ was the one to get tattoos.

The longer Richie looked at how  _ sexy _ the love of his life was, the more he had to cross his legs and shove an elbow between them.

When Eddie woke up a few hours later, he was incredibly groggy. Then, he noticed all of his friends (and that he was alive, probably) and smiled. The smile abruptly fell off of his face when he looked down and realized that he had no shirt on. 

He had a limited range of motion but that didn’t stop him from trying to reach down to grab the blanket draped over his legs. Stan hopped up to stop Eddie from hurting himself, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over his body, but leaving the bandaged area uncovered.

_ I can’t believe you guys had to see this shit… _ Eddie had muttered, attempting to cover one of his bicep tattoos with a hand.

The losers all quickly assured him that his tattoos looked cool, badass, and awesome.

When all of the losers looked at Richie, he realized that he never said anything about them.

Then he said, quite idiotically,  _ Yeah, Eds. They’re pretty. _

Bill guffawed at the word choice but thankfully, Eddie didn’t seem to take offense. He must’ve felt quite the opposite, if the flush painting his cheeks was any indication.

A few years after all of that—right now—Eddie must've caught Richie staring at him, because he looked at him and raised a brow. "Hey, babe. Is something wrong?"

And Richie couldn't speak, he was too busy staring at the ink that marked his boyfriend's skin and resisting the urge to fucking  _ lick _ it.

Then Eddie looked down at his own body and looked back at Richie with hurt in his eyes. "Well if you wanted me to put a shirt back on, you could've just  _ told _ me."

Eddie grabbed the comforter from where it was rolled down at the foot of the bed, about to cover himself up, when Richie stopped him with a gentle grab to the wrist.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Richie, I'm fucking  _ cold." _

Then, Richie  _ finally _ found his voice. "If you were cold, you wouldn't have come to bed without a shirt."

Eddie tried to pull his hand free but Richie kept a grip on it.

“Eds…”

_ “What?” _ Eddie practically yelled, his voice cracking and tears starting to form in his eyes.

"Eds, baby… come 'ere." 

While Richie was still leaning against the headboard, he pulled Eddie closer. When Eddie didn't protest or try to pull away, Richie kept dragging Eddie until his back met his chest.

Richie kept one arm secured around Eddie's waist and, with his free hand, started tracing one of the tattoos with his pointer finger. He didn't need to see them, at this point. Even though he had only seen Eddie shirtless a few times, he basically had all the marks memorized.

Richie traced the "No Dice" that was written in cursive across his chest.

Eddie stiffened at the touch but didn't tell Richie to quit or try to move away, so Richie kept going. Next, he moved his finger along the stars on both pecs.

Richie pressed his nose to the nape of Eddie's neck and gently kissed him there. Eddie let out a soft sigh and relaxed into Richie’s arms.

Richie started tracing the intricate sparrow on one bicep, then the cell tower on the other. Richie kissed the crown of his head and Eddie made another happy noise as any remaining tension fell out of his body.

Richie kept tracing the tattoos, revisiting the previous ones when he traced the final.

They sat in content silence for a moment. The only sounds in the room being Richie’s kisses, Eddie’s relaxed breathing, and the drag of Richie’s thick finger on Eddie’s tanned skin.

Then, after a while, Eddie mumbled, "Myra fucking hated these."

Richie nodded, reaching over to trace the hawk on the inside of his forearm. "Doesn't surprise me that that bitch couldn't like something this cool."

Eddie laughed a little too loudly for someone so relaxed and Richie smiled, that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling starting in his chest and slowly spreading outward to his limbs.

When Eddie was done laughing, he softly asked, “You really think they’re cool?”

Under normal circumstances, Richie would’ve assumed that Eddie was fishing for compliments and would’ve immediately called him out on it. He did that shit  _ way _ too often. Asking Richie, ‘You think I’m cute?’ or ‘You really think I look good in these shorts?’

But Richie knew that’s not what Eddie was trying to do. Eddie  _ actually _ needed reassurance that the tattoos were awesome and he had no reason to hate them as much as he did.

Richie smiled into Eddie’s skin and moved to kiss the side of his neck. “I  _ do. _ Eds, your tattoos are  _ very _ cool.”

Richie felt Eddie shiver at his low voice. “Yeah?”

Richie hummed in affirmation, nuzzling into his neck, “They’re awesome.”

Richie reached over to trace the tattoo on the inside of Eddie’s other arm. “So is this one, even though I have no clue what the  _ fuck _ it’s supposed to be.”

Eddie snorted with laughter and Richie grinned. “Listen. Every fucking one of these was an implusive descision.”

Richie rolled his eyes and snorted himself. “You have never made an impulsive decision in your  _ life.” _

“Not after these, I didn’t...”

Richie’s finger froze on the cowboy tattoo at the sudden change in Eddie’s tone of voice.

“Eds,” Richie said, voice soft. “I think these are some of the best decisions you’ve made in your life.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “No they’re not. I was young and dumb and wanted to rebell against everything my mom stood for. I never considered the repercussions for this shit and paid the price.”

Richie couldn't hold back the scoff of disbelief that came out of his mouth. “What ‘price?’ The ‘price’ of you having yet  _ another _ thing that I like about you?”

“Yeah but they’re on my body for the  _ rest of my life. _ There’s no way to remove them that’s not  _ incredibly _ painful.”

Richie shrugged. “Well, again, I think they’re awesome. And, besides, you’ve made worse decisions.”

“Like what?”

“Eds, come on. You married a fucking  _ woman. _ And...Honestly, I can’t think of any more. But  _ that _ was the worst decision you’ve ever made.”

Eddie laughed, the newfound tension slipping out of his body. “Yeah. You’re right. Even though these tattoos suck, marrying Myra was the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

Richie kissed Eddie’s cheek (as well as he could while sitting behind him, anyway) and started tracing the cowboy tattoo. ”Eddie, baby, can I ask you something?”

Eddie hummed in affirmation.

“If your mom and ex-wife hadn’t shamed you for getting the tattoos, would you have hated them as much as you do now?”

Eddie fell silent. Richie patiently waited for him to respond, still running his finger along the ink and kissing the back of his neck.

Finally, after ten whole minutes, Eddie finally said, “Honestly… I don’t think I would’ve. I would’ve never regretted getting  _ any _ of these if they hadn’t given me shit about them.”

“Mmmhmm. And none of the losers have said anything that wasn’t positive.”

Eddie turned his head to make eye contact with Richie, a small, genuine smile on his face. “You’re right. And I remember how much you were struggling to keep it together when you first saw them.”

Richie laughed softly. “Well, can you  _ blame _ me? I didn’t think it was possible for you to be  _ any hotter, _ and yet…”

A light flush started to creep into Eddie’s cheeks. He leaned towards Richie for a kiss but a huge yawn stopped him.

“Bedtime?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded in agreement.

Richie shifted to lie down on his side, keeping his arms around Eddie and taking him with him.

Eddie made a slightly high-pitched, surprised noise and Richie chuckled.

Once Richie situated the two of them into a comfortable spooning position and sat his glasses on the nightstand, Eddie relaxed into his arms.

Before Richie could go back to tracing the tattoos, Eddie mumbled, “Can I see you?”

Richie made an affirmative noise and loosened his grip on Eddie so he could turn around. Eddie rested his chin on Richie’s chest and Richie tightened his arms around him again.

When they made eye contact, Eddie’s constantly furrowed brow smoothed out and his body relaxed  _ even further _ (if that were even possible.)

“Hey there.” Richie murmured, kissing his forehead.

Eddie giggled, kissing the underside of Richie’s jaw. “Hey, Rich."

Everyone called Richie that when he became an adult. Because ‘Richie’ sounded like a little kid’s name, while ‘Rich’ sounded more like the name of a grown man. But the name quickly became a term of endearment that the losers used to refer to him and the name sounded sweetest when coming from Eddie,

Richie grinned sleepily. “Read for bed after being in the bathroom for thirty minutes?”

Eddie snorted, his eyes crinkling at the edges when he smiled. “Says the man who traced my tattoos for just as long.”

Richie rolled his eyes, still grinning. “You fucking  _ liked _ it.”

Richie figured Eddie would deny it or at least keep joking with him.

But, instead, Eddie said, “Yeah, I really did.”

So Richie started tracing one of his tattoos again.

Eddie let out a relaxed sigh and his eyes slipped shut. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake for much longer.”

Richie shrugged, kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Then don’t. You can sleep, it’s okay.”

Eddie yawned and lazily nodded his head. “Okay. I love you, Rich.”

Richie smiled, dragging his finger along Eddie’s tattoos in soothing motions. “I love you too, baby.”

***

When Eddie woke up, it was morning and he immediately realized that his torso was bare.

Normally he'd be panicking, frantically trying to find where his shirt was and putting it on as fast as humanly possible.

But, right now, he didn't care.

The next thing he noticed was that Richie had his face buried in Eddie’s neck. He felt those big, strong arms wrapped around him.

When Eddie was married to Myra, she would absolutely  _ refuse _ to touch him unless he had a shirt on. Even though he was gay and felt no sexua or romantic attraction towards her, it was still a  _ huge _ blow to his self esteem. 

If your own fucking  _ wife _ doesn’t want you, who the fuck would?

But Richie was  _ clinging _ to him. It didn’t matter if he was doing it subconsciously. Eddie was confident that Richie would do the same while awake too, considering the fact that he had touched the tattoos so unflinchingly the night before.

Eddie was so fucking  _ lucky _ to have Richie. Someone who loved him with every fiber of their being. Someone who accepted all of his flaws and loved  _ everything _ within him. Someone who not only loved him with all of their heart but also found him attractive, even  _ with _ his tattoos.

Eddie could’ve only  _ dreamed _ of having someone like that in his life, even while married to Myra, before coming back to Derry. Returning to Derry was an  _ awful _ experience and Eddie almost fucking  _ died. _ But he wouldn’t trade it for anything else or stop himself from going if he could, because he found Richie again. 

Richie was the man of his fucking  _ dreams _ and he  _ loved _ Eddie!

For the first time in his life, Eddie felt loved, he felt brave, and he felt… content. Content with the life he had now and content with all of the mistakes he had made in his life.

He felt content with marrying Myra, because it made his relationship with Richie now so much sweeter. He felt content with going back to Derry because he found Richie and everyone in Derry could be  _ safe _ for once. He even felt content with getting all his tattoos because they looked good and Richie  _ liked _ them. And now,  _ Eddie _ liked them too.

Eddie was finally…  _ happy. _ Something he never thought that he’d  _ ever _ be.

When Eddie realized that it was too early to get out of bed(even for  _ him) _ he yawned, feeling ready to go back to sleep.

So Eddie cuddled closer to Richie—who shifted and whimpered in his sleep—and drifted off into the most peaceful sleep he’d ever had in his life. 

Because he was no longer restless with regret. He no longer saw the mistakes he had made in his life as  _ mistakes, _ he just saw them as things that had to happen. Sure, he would still have his ups and downs. He would still have bad days when he wouldn't feel this way. But his life was significantly better than it was before Derry. 

His life was finally  _ good _ and he was ready to start living.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got literally nothing else to say lol.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr, I'm too lazy to put the link here but my url is the same as my username on here (except dashes instead of underscores.) 
> 
> And that's all. Thanks for reading!
> 
> (... I'm pretty sure James Ransone doesn't even have a tattoo on his shoulder but the title stays lol)


End file.
